


a little broken (but not beyond repair)

by ghostfaeries



Series: mending [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Brotherly Love, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick calls Tim babybird because im incredibly soft for that, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Injury, Minor Injuries, POV Dick Grayson, Platonic Cuddling, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake-centric, Tim is touch starved, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Tim Drake, because i am projecting ok!!!!, but theyre already brothers bc i say so, its jason, ok tim is not adopted yet here, theyre sweethearts i love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25365499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostfaeries/pseuds/ghostfaeries
Summary: A cold, clammy hand encircled Dick’s heart.“Tim,” He started carefully. “When was the last time you had a hug?”Or: Tim is touch starved and Dick notices.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: mending [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836973
Comments: 27
Kudos: 573





	a little broken (but not beyond repair)

**Author's Note:**

> this is entirely self indulgent  
> i had a dream about getting a hug from Dick a few weeks ago but i woke up before i could get it and im STILL mad about it. I have a weird relationship with touch and I cant hug people bc of it so I havent had a proper hug in literal years and since Tim is my comfort character i shoved that onto him youre welcome :D
> 
> Ok so idk shit about timelines (but its not like canon is v clear) but I imagine this being not too long after Tim became Robin, so his parents are still alive and he hasn't been adopted by Bruce yet.
> 
> Content warnings: this got a bit angstier than expected? Dick thinks about Jason a bit, cause this is set less than a year after his death, so warning for that. oh and also warning for slight child neglect, cause you know, Tim's parents. Let me know if I need to mention anything else here
> 
> DISCLAIMER: please do not interact with this fic in any way if you ship Dick, Jason, Cass, Tim, Damian or Duke with each other as this makes me very uncomfortable as someone with siblings, thank you
> 
> ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIMMY ILY

“Dick!” Tim grinned widely when Dick walked into the cave. It had been a peaceful night – as peaceful as it could get in Gotham, at least – so Batman had sent Nightwing and Robin back earlier while he finished up patrol. Dick had been closer to the manor and had arrived before Tim, so he just came from the showers, hair still damp and a flush on his cheeks from the hot water. 

Tim had been sitting on the Batchair, typing away at the Batcomputer – still in costume unlike Dick, although his cape and gauntlets laid discarded on the ground – but when he saw his brother, he jumped up excitedly. Even from the distance between them, Dick could see his face scrunch up in pain at the motion, just as Tim’s right leg gave out under him. Dick was at his side in an instant, catching the boy before he could hit the floor. 

“Woah there, cowboy.” Dick carefully set Tim back on the chair, kneeling to be at eye level with the small boy. “Are you injured?” He asked, already looking Tim’s leg over for wounds. 

Tim waved him off. “I ran into a mugging on my way back, it’s fine.” 

“Fine? You’ve got a sprained ankle! That’s not fine, Tim!” Dick exclaimed, having examined his leg. 

Tim flinched at the volume. “I’m sorry,” He said, hunching his shoulders. He was picking at his nails, refusing to look Dick in the eye. “I’ll do better next time.” 

_What? Who had gotten it into this child’s head that he needed to hide his pain or he’d disappoint people?_

“Tim,” Dick said firmly but gently. “I’m not mad at you.” 

Tim stiffened but didn’t look up. “You’re not?” His voice was way too small. 

“I’m not,” Dick assured him. “Can you look at me, please?” 

Tim tentatively raised his head, still not quite meeting Dick’s gaze. It was better than nothing, he supposed. 

“Tim,” Dick said again. “I – or B or Alfie for that matter – won't ever get mad at you for getting injured. We’re just worried about you, so please tell us when you get injured so we can help you.” 

“Promise?” Tim asked, finally daring to look Dick in the eye. 

“Promise.” Dick grinned. “I’ll even pinky swear on it.” 

This elicited a smile out of the boy. “I’ve never done a pinky swear,” He shared. 

Dick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. What thirteen-year-old hadn’t done a pinky swear? 

“Well, guess I gotta be your first then.” 

This got an actual, open mouthed grin out of Tim, tooth gap and all. He hooked his pinky finger with Dick’s and they shook on it. Dick’s hand absolutely dwarfed Tim’s. 

_He’s way too small for his age_ , shot through Dick’s head. 

“Come on,” Dick said, standing up. “I’ll carry you to the med bay so we can get some ice on that ankle of yours.” 

“I can walk!” Tim protested. 

“Nuh uh, mister,” Dick said, bending down to gather the boy in his arms. He was light, too light (Dick really needed to talk to B and Alfie about getting this kid to eat more), so Dick easily lifted him and walked over to the med bay, Tim pouting but not struggling against him. He seemed to relax in his arms, actually. 

Dick set him down on a cot (“Don’t move.”) and rifled through the mini fridge to get an ice pack. He wrapped a towel around it and walked back over to his little brother. He hopped up next to him on the cot, crossing his legs, and pulled Tim’s hurt leg on his lap. He held the ice against his ankle, the boy sucking in a breath of air at the sudden cold, before relaxing again. 

They chatted about meaningless things for a while, neither telling the other they were waiting until Bruce came home, but knowing so anyway. 

The conversation eventually petered out, and they sat in comfortable silence for a while. After what could’ve been thirty minutes or three hours, Dick realised Tim’s breathing had slowed considerably. He looked over at the boy next to him. Tim was dozing off, his eyelashes fluttering, alternating between being open and closed, as if his body couldn’t decide which to choose. 

Dick shifted, removing Tim’s leg from his lap so he could scoot over to get closer to him. He put a soft hand on his shoulder, rousing Tim from his slumber. 

“Huh?” He said sleepily. 

Dick smiled at him. Even if he was Robin, he was still a kid who needed his sleep. “Bedtime, Babybird.” 

Tim whined. “I wanna wait for Bruce.” 

“I know, kiddo, but he wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your sleep for him.” 

“Well then he’s a fucking hypocrite,” Tim muttered, but not soft enough Dick couldn’t hear. 

“Language, but you’re right,” Dick chuckled. “I won’t tell Alfred you said that if you go to bed now.” 

Tim’s eyes widened at the prospect. No one dared crossing Alfred. “Okay, okay, I’m going, don’t tell Alfred. I’m running out of swear jar money.” 

The kid hesitated for a moment. 

“What is it, Tim?” 

“Can I stay here?” 

When Dick opened his mouth to say no, Tim hurriedly added, “I’ll sleep, I promise, I just want to be here when Bruce gets back. Please, Dick?” 

He gave Dick the best puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, and that was saying something, considering Dick had used puppy dog eyes on Bruce plenty of times in the past. He sighed and gave in. “Fine.” 

Tim threw his arms up in the air and started cheering, but Dick cut him off. “ _But_. You’re immediately going to your room when Bruce gets here. And if you fall asleep before he comes home, I’m not waking you up to greet him, okay? You need all the sleep you can get.” 

Tim pouted, but agreed with the conditions. Dick pushed himself off the cot and fetched a blanket and pillow from a closet. He laid them on the cot and was just about to make Tim lay down when he noticed something. 

“Uh, Tim? You’re still wearing your domino.” 

Tim’s hands flew to his face. “Oh. I guess I am.” 

He started trying to peel it off, but his movements were sluggish and he was failing to do so. 

“Here, let me help.” 

Dick sat back down on the cot, a bit closer than before, and started carefully removing the mask from the boy’s face. When he got it off entirely, he casually threw it toward a table in the corner. It missed and fell to the floor, but Dick didn’t get up to pick it up. He could do that later, right now his priority was to get his little brother to go to sleep. He looked at Tim and smiled. “Time for bed, buddy. You’ve pushed it off enough as i- what's that?” 

There was a scar on Tim’s face, about an inch underneath his right eye. It was faded and almost blended in with his regular skin, but there nonetheless. Dick thumbed at the faint mark on Tim’s cheek. “Where did you get this from? It looks too old to be from being Robin, but rather big for a normal childhood scar.” 

Tim blinked hazily, as if trying to hold onto wakefulness, although his body was clearly fighting him – and winning – but his eyes cleared up when he recalled the answer. “Oh! It’s from the first night I followed you and Bruce. I didn’t see where I was going and tripped over a loose brick and fell. It’s fine, it wasn’t a big cut.” 

“You what?” Dick exclaimed, not believing what he was hearing. “You followed me and B on patrol?” 

Tim nodded enthusiastically, happy to talk about a topic he enjoyed. “Yeah! Didn’t you know? I, um...” He looked a bit sheepish now. “You know how I figured out your identities when I was nine?” Dick nodded. “I... used to take pictures of you two. And after that, when you became Nightwing, of Bruce and-” 

He fell silent, the unspoken name hanging heavily in the air. 

“Yeah,” He finished. 

They quieted, the weight of a boy’s absence settling on their shoulders like the heavens on Atlas’s. It was a weight they would forever have to carry between them. Maybe together they could bear it. 

They sat like that for a while, images of a boy’s exuberant grin, bright eyed and quick witted, flitting before Dick’s closed eyes. Then, he morphed. His eyes were swollen and blue, the grin wiped off his face, blood splattering his cheek. His silhouette was painted red, red, red, the memories of a boy glowing with happiness, tainted with the pain of losing a could-have-been brother. 

Tim made a sound, so soft Dick wouldn’t have been able to pick it up had he been sitting farther away. He opened his eyes and realised his hand was still resting on Tim's face, on the sliver of scar there. Tim had gravitated toward the warmth, pressed his cheek into it insistently as if that one touch was the only thing keeping him going. He was leaning into it so heavily he was in danger of tipping over. 

“Timmy? You good?” 

Tim’s eyes snapped open and he quickly snapped his head away from Dick’s hand. “Sorry! I just, it’s just- I'm-” His tongue tripped over his words, barely comprehensible. 

“Breathe, Tim.” 

Tim did as he said and inhaled, exhaled, once, twice, until he continued with a steadier voice. “Sorry, the touch was just... nice. It’s been a while.” 

A cold, clammy hand encircled Dick’s heart. 

“Tim,” He started carefully. “When was the last time you had a hug?” 

Tim looked thoughtful for a moment, eyebrows scrunching up in concentration, like this was another one of his tests, the ones Bruce would sometimes give him. Then he shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Not sure,” He said. “Hmm, let’s see. I think the last time was halfway through elementary school? Maybe before that. Hard to say, I don’t exactly keep track. A couple years I’d say, at least. Mom and dad don’t really touch me while they’re in Gotham. I don’t think they like me much.” Another shrug. 

He told Dick he thought his parents didn’t like him in the same way one would note that the milk was expired. Like it was everyday life. For him it probably was. 

The hand squeezed and Dick’s heart shattered, shattered for this small, thirteen-year-old boy who’d had to go through a third of his life without being hugged even once.

“Oh, Timmy.” Dick’s voice was wobbly. “Come here, buddy.” Dick opened his arms, an invitation. Tim looked at him and cocked his head, as if not understanding what he meant, and Dick’s heart broke a little more, feeling like the shards of it dug into his skin, bleeding silent tears of red for this child. Tim had been without embraces for so long, he didn’t even know what they looked like anymore. 

Dick surged forward, taking Tim into his arms. Tim froze for a moment, unused as he was to the action, but soon relaxed into Dick’s hold. Tim looped his arms around Dick’s shoulders, holding on tight. Tim let out a sigh, a heavy one that seemed to come from deep within, one that made a shudder course through his entire body, and the boy went limp. 

Dick shifted on the cot, laying down to get more comfortable. He could tell they’d be here for a while. Tim went down with him willingly, laying on Dick’s torso, Dick’s arms still wrapped around him. Tim’s arms had travelled up to go behind his neck so they didn’t get crushed underneath Dick’s body. Tim’s face was buried in the front of Dick’s shirt, his face hidden from the world and from Dick. He was trembling, Dick noted. 

“Timmy?” He whispered, hesitant to disturb the moment. “Are you okay?” 

Tim nodded against the soft fabric, lifting his face to look Dick in the eye. He’d left a damp spot on the shirt, and there were matching tear tracks on his cheeks. “Yeah. Sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.” 

Dick was quick to reassure him. “You’re experiencing a human need after years of not getting it, it’s perfectly normal and okay to cry over this.” 

Tim stiffened for a second, then relaxed again. It was like he’d become boneless, all the tension suddenly left his body and he melted. He smushed his face back into Dick’s chest so his next words were muffled. “Oh. Thanks, Dick.” 

Dick carded his fingers through the boy’s hair, not caring about the sweat and dirt clinging to it. “It’s alright. You’re alright, Tim. You’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it.” 

“Y’r a good big brother,” Tim mumbled, sleep pulling him in and slurring his words, and for a moment Dick saw another boy in his place, a little older than the one in front of him right now, but with the same dark hair and faint freckles scattered across his face, could imagine him saying those words, and his heart shook painfully, knowing he’d never be able to hear those words coming from him. 

He blinked and the boy had turned back into Tim. Dick closed his eyes, allowing a single tear to run down his cheek and made a vow. He wouldn’t fail another Robin. He wouldn’t fail another brother. 

They fell asleep like that, two Robins, two brothers, intertwined, both with tears drying on their face, but they were okay. Or at least, they would be. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I feel like it's kinda all over the place and a bit messy and nonsensical, but maybe that's just because I'm tired
> 
> Please tell me what you thought!
> 
> I put this fic in a series cause I'm thinking of writing a continuation, so subscribe to that if you want to see that whenever I finish that, or not, I cant tell you what to do. The name might change idk we'll see  
> Edit: changed the name from healing to mending yeet who knows if that stays certainly not me
> 
> My DC blog: autistic-damian-wayne


End file.
